Close To Home (Westen Series)

by Ferrell, Suzanne

  “Damn it!” He slammed his fist down on the mahogany desk that had been in his uncle’s office as long as he could remember. “They’re great kids. She’s crazy to let them fend for themselves! Anything could happen to them—like today.”

  His decision made, Clint jerked off his lab coat, threw it in the corner chair, and went in search of the boys. He was going to take them home and give their mother a piece of his mind!

  * * *

  Harriett tried to talk him out of it, but Clint was determined to investigate the situation at the twins’ home. It had been months since he’d really enjoyed taking care of patients. Holding the body of one dying child was enough for him. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to these boys now.

  So, in the end, despite his nurse’s cryptic remarks that things were not always what they seemed, he and the boys headed across the street.

  “Mommy is...” Brian said as he held Clint’s hand with his good one.

  “...sleeping now,” Benjamin informed him from the other side.

  “Who watches you when your mother is asleep?” Clint asked as they reached the old three-story colonial directly across from his clinic.

  “Mama does,” the boys answered in unison.

  Did this woman truly believe raising these boys in a small town protected them—that the safety of a small community negated the need for supervision? His blood started to boil again as his temper re-ignited.

  The boys led him up to the front door. He followed them inside. The condition of the front parlor stopped him in his tracks. Either someone was attempting to knock out a wall, or the boys’ mother let them entertain themselves by hurling hammers into the drywall.

  He took a step into the room, but two small hands stopped him, pulling him backward.

  “We’re not allowed...” Brian began.

  “...in the construction rooms,” Benjamin followed.

  “I’m sorry boys.” Clint stepped back. At least the woman has some sense. “Why don’t you show me where your mother is.”

  “Mommy’s upstairs,” Benjamin bounced up the steps, while his brother chose to hold Clint’s hand and walk up beside him.

  Despite his bravado of doing things just like his brother, Clint sensed Brian probably needed a little more reassurance. He gave the younger boy’s hand a squeeze and smiled down at him.

  Brian gave him a gap-toothed grin in return. “Mama will be surprised to see our...” He held up his arm. “What’d you call this?”

  “A cast.” Clint couldn’t resist another smile. “And I’ll just bet she’ll be surprised.”

  “Mommy’s in here.” Benjamin stopped for a moment at the first door at the top of the stairs, then burst into the room. Brian dropped Clint’s hand and dashed in after his brother.

  Laughter greeted Clint’s ears at the open doorway—rich, soft laughter, like the creamy center of a melted caramel. The kind of laughter that made you want to wrap yourself up in it and stay a while.

  Clint stopped in the doorway, spellbound.

  The boys sat on different sides of an antique four-poster bed, sunk knee-deep in patchwork quilts, sheets and what he would swear was an old fashioned feather-tick mattress. But it was the vision between the little boys that held Clint’s attention.

  Emma Lewis had the same rich, dark, burnt-copper hair as her sons, and the burns-if-she’s-out-in-the-sun-longer-than-one-hour skin of most redheads. Beneath the wrinkled T-shirt and jeans she’d fallen asleep in, he could tell she was neither too thin nor too heavy, just the luscious type of figure Clint decided long ago he liked on women. She also possessed that wonderful laughter that had stirred more than his heart to life.

  But when she raised the deepest cornflower-blue eyes to him, Clint nearly moaned. If he let himself, he could get lost in that open, clear gaze forever.

  “Can I help you?” The remnants of sleep in her voice brought on visions of hearing her voice after a night of endless passion.

  “I’m Clint Preston,” he started to explain.

  “He’s Doc Ray’s nephew. And he’s a doc, too,” interrupted Benjamin.

  “And he put this on my arm,” Brian added, not to be outdone by his brother.

  “What?” Emma looked at her sons, finally taking in their casts and looking a bit confused. “What happened?”

  “Apparently they decided to play skydivers while you were sleeping,” Clint informed her. Some of his anger was dispelled by the obvious motherly concern on her face.

  “Where?” she asked, looking first at one cast then the other.

  “Thompson’s tree,” the boys answered at the same time.

  Emma sat straight up at this information. Her face changed from one of concern to one of maternal outrage. “The tall oak in front of Old Man Thompson’s barn? What were the two of you doing there? You know he doesn’t allow anyone on his property. That boar hog of his is dangerous!”

  “But it’s the biggest tree, mommy,” Benjamin said, his head drooped with guilt.

  “That’s no excuse, Benjamin Joseph Lewis!” Their mother gave the boys such an I’m-very-disappointed-in-you look that Clint wanted to grab them and leave.

  His anger snapped back to life. “If you had someone watching them, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said, coming to loom over the bed. “Setting limits, then yelling at them after they forget those limits is no replacement for actual adult supervision. Cases of neglect have been made on less, lady!”

  Emma surged up in the bed, coming almost nose-to-nose with him. “How dare you suggest I neglect my sons. Not that it’s any of your business, Doctor, but for your information, I do have someone watching them.” Emma glared at him, her arms securely around her sons. “Mama watches them.”

  “You can’t possibly believe they are safe running loose in this Podunk town while you sleep. You don’t deserve two great kids like these. Your lack of concern over their care is tantamount to neglect.”

  “I don’t know who you think you are, Doctor, but no one accuses me of neglecting my kids.” She crawled out of the bed, to stand inches from him, her face flushed with her temper.

  Then he remembered Johnny Wilson.

  “I’m giving you one week, lady. Either you find more responsible child care, or I’ll have the county Child Protection Services here so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  “Oh, dear. This is all my fault.” A soft voice sounded from behind him.

  Clint turned to see a tiny, white-haired woman standing in the doorway, wringing her hands.

  Chapter Two

  “It’s alright, Mama.” Emma stepped around the arrogant doctor standing in the middle of her bedroom. She’d deal with him later. First, she had to calm her mother down. “The boys are fine, really.”

  “But Emma, their arms are broken.” Her mother looked beyond her to where the boys stood next to the doctor. “I never should’ve gone to pick the beans. What was I thinking?”

  Emma took her mother’s hands in hers, making her focus on her. “Mama, the boys made the decision to go on their own. It’s not your fault. The doctor took good care of them and everything is fine now. Why don’t you go down and start cleaning the green beans. We’ll see if we can get them snapped before I leave for work.”

  Her mother smiled. “I think I’ll do that. Maybe Rachel can help me can them when she comes this evening.”

  Emma watched her mother turn and slowly make her way back down the stairs. Once the elderly woman had cleared the last step and moved toward the kitchen, Emma turned her attention to the doctor standing in the middle of her bedroom.

  “That was Mama. So you see, I’m not as neglectful as you seem to think.”

  His softened expression made her think for a moment he’d apologize. Then he looked at her sons, who’d to stand beside her, and his eyes narrowed once more.

  “I’d suggest you still make other arrangements for your sons’ care. Obviously they’re too much for your mother to handle.” With that comment he pushed past her and s
trode out of her room.

  Emma stood stunned, her arms wrapped protectively around the boys, listening to him stomp down her stairs and out the front door. Her breath stuck somewhere between her lips and her lungs. For the first time since going through the nightmare of a paternity suit during her divorce did she fear losing her sons.

  “Mommy…” Ben whined from her left side.

  “...you’re squeezing us too tight.” Brian finished from the other side.

  Their words broke the spell the doctor’s tirade had cast over her. Emma glanced into her sons’ worried faces. She hoped the apprehension stemmed from the punishment they knew awaited them and not from the angry words of the doctor. She released her grip on them, sitting down hard on the bed. “Okay, you two. What were you supposed to be doing instead of diving out of old man Thompson’s tree?”

  They immediately lowered their eyes, standing before her like prisoners facing the guillotine. She didn’t buy it for a second. “Benjamin?”

  Her oldest—and usually the instigator—lifted his soft puppy-brown eyes to her. “We were supposed to be watching the Mutant Turtles movie...”

  “...while Mama went to pick beans.” Brian finished, his matching eyes pleading with her not to be too angry with them.

  Emma closed her eyes and counted to twenty. Then she glanced at the clock. Three hours until her shift at the Café started. “We’ll discuss what your punishment is after I finish work tonight. Is that understood?”

  They both nodded.

  “For now, you’ll march to your rooms and take a nap.”

  “Aww, mommy,” Brian whined.

  “That’s not fair,” Ben complained.

  Emma crossed her arms over her chest and gave them her best stern-mother expression. “Two boys who ignore the family rule about wandering off when Mama is supposed to be watching them, climb Old Man Thompson’s tree—which is defying another rule—and end up each breaking an arm and having to see the doctor should be happy I only want to put them to bed.” She had to hide a smile when they both lowered their heads in shame. It wouldn’t last long—probably only as long as their naps.

  “You guys get in bed and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  The boys slowly shuffled off toward their room.

  Shaking her head, Emma went off to check on Mama and search for some pain medicine. Her sons might not hurt too much now, but after their nap she’d be lucky if they weren’t miserable. A little preventative medicine now, to help reduce their pain later, would be in her own best interest as well as theirs.

  Once she was sure Mama was safely seated on the back screened-in porch snapping beans, it still took Emma ten minutes to get the boys completely settled. Quietly, she closed the door and leaned against it. She loved her sons with all her heart. Their natural curiosity seemed to increase daily.

  With a heavy sigh, she climbed into her shower. The hot steamy water served two purposes. It pounded on her sore aching muscles, and it helped to wake her.

  What to do with the boys? This summer had been the hardest by far to keep them contained. Ever since her father died last winter, the two mini-Rambos pushed the limits of her patience daily. She thanked her lucky stars she still had Mama to watch them so she could sleep in three mornings a week, but even that wasn’t working out as well as she’d planned. Today’s incident was the fourth time this month the boys or Mama had wandered off.

  School didn’t start for another week and she didn’t know what she was going to do with the three of them. Between her job at the Café and moonlighting at the county hospital as a nurse’s aide, she’d run herself ragged trying to work, care for Mama and watch her sons.

  She knew the boys wanted her to stay home with them, which was why they were so mischievous. But dammit, she also had to keep them all fed and clothed, and maintain a roof over their heads. Emma leaned her head against the cool tiles of the shower.

  And what to do about Clint Preston?

  What a great surprise it had been to awaken and find him standing in her doorway after all these years. At first she’d thought it was another dream. The same one she’d had the past twenty years whenever her loneliness hit her the hardest.

  In all her dreams she’d been dressed in a fine dress, her hair and nails impeccably done. Clint Preston, the man who had stolen her heart at the age of fifteen, dazzled by her beauty and wit.

  Emma flung both of her arms on top of her head in exasperation. Only today the dream came true. Today Clint had actually been there, but this time angry and accusatory. And how had he found her? A complete mess! Not the self-assured, sophisticated woman she’d always imagined herself to be. No, he finds her an overworked, hassled mother, asleep in dirty, wrinkled clothes, wearing no makeup, her hair falling out of her French braid.

  To top it off—to completely shatter her dreams—he had no clue who she was. Twenty years ago, she fell in love with him across a banana split. Sure, he’d only been taking his youngest sister Gwen and her friend out so they would leave the adults alone, but his kindness and handsome face had stolen her heart.

  Get hold of yourself, Emma, old girl! One of these days you’ll realize that dreams just don’t come true. And when they do, you probably will get the short end of the stick. Didn’t you learn that from the rat you married?

  Emma straightened her shoulders and pushed away from the wall. Yes, she’d learned her lesson from Dwayne. The only person she could count on was herself. If Clint Preston could forget her, then she could forget him, too. And if he thought for one moment he could come in here and threaten her life with her sons, then he had another think coming. The good doctor might not realize it yet, but he had just awakened the tigress who protected her cubs.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, dressed in her favorite T-shirt and sweat shorts, Emma stood in her kitchen unloading her dishwasher of yesterday’s dishes, when a hesitant knock sounded on the kitchen door.

  “Emma?” Suzie Miller stood on the porch, her arms wrapped around her body and a concerned expression on her face.

  “Come on in, Suzie.” Emma ushered the older woman in.

  “Are the boys all right?” Both embarrassment and worry etched the lines around Suzie’s mouth and eyes. Even though the pastor’s wife neared fifty in age, she still showed the beauty she’d been more than a quarter of a century ago.

  “Except for each of them having a broken wrist, they’re fine, Suzie, really.” Emma quickly hugged her friend, then pulled out a chair for her.

  “I am so sorry, Emma. I‘d planned to spend the afternoon with the boys and your mother, but my daughter needed me to take her to the hospital in Columbus for a checkup. When I got home, Harriet called me from the Doc’s office and said they’d come in there and that they’d each broken an arm. I wanted to rush right over, but Harriet said Doc Ray’s nephew had already brought them home. She said I should give you a few minutes before coming to apologize.” She took the glass of tea Emma handed her, swallowing a sip.

  “I had hoped Mama would be capable of handling them, but sometimes…”

  “…she gets a little distracted, doesn’t she? My Aunt Birdie was the same way. She’d start one thing, forget what she was doing and wander off to do something else. It’s why I thought I should come spend the afternoon with Isabelle and the boys. I just feel so bad I didn’t.”

  Emma took a long drink of her own tea, hiding a smile. Suzie could get more information out in two minutes of conversation than most people in half an hour. “Suzie, it’s not your fault. The problem is with my sons. The two imps lay in wait for whoever is watching them to turn their back for a second. Then they’re off like a pair of greyhounds at the races.”

  Suzie giggled. “They’re quick, aren’t they?”

  “Oh heck, Suzie, when they learned to crawl, I had to check out the back yard before putting them on the ground. They crawled so fast, they nearly caught the squirrels once or twice.”

  They exchanged smiles, both settling back to drink the
ir sun tea. Emma realized she lived for these peaceful moments in her hectic life. She loved her sons to no end, but sometimes she just needed to remember how it felt to have a quiet afternoon all to herself.

  “So, what’s he like?”

  Suzie’s question came out of the blue.

  “Who?”

  “Doc Ray’s nephew. Amanda Yoder said he’s a dead ringer for that actor on TV. You know the one that plays the Navy lawyer.”

  Emma thought about it. No, Clint wasn’t that pretty. Definitely handsome. Yes, he’d always been handsome. “He’s nice looking, I suppose, but I wouldn’t call him movie-star gorgeous.”

  “So, tell me what he’s like.”

  “Besides arrogant, opinionated and a busybody?”

  Suzie cringed. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. Do you know he threatened to report me to the county Child Protection Agency for neglect?” Emma toyed with her glass, her anger heating up.

  “Oh no, because of today?”

  “Yes. Seems the good doctor thinks me an unfit mother.”

  Her friend laid her hand on Emma’s, stopping her fidgeting with the glass. “He can’t believe that. You’re a great mother. I’ll go speak with him about it.”

  Emma shook her head. “No, that’s okay Suzie. The man didn’t even wait for me to explain and I’m sure he won’t listen to you either. I think the best thing to do is just keep the boys away from him as much as possible.”

  * * *

  The dinner crowd at the Peaches ‘N Cream Café was a mixture of townsfolk, truckers, and tourists on their way home from a day of shopping in the Amish country in northeast Ohio. The chatter sounded like the school cafeteria at lunchtime, except here a jukebox played a mix of Beatles classics, Elvis and old country standards.

  Emma maneuvered her way through the tables spaced far enough apart to accommodate the fire code and still pack in plenty of customers to make Lorna a profit. Emma carried a round tray laden with the Tuesday evening special—meatloaf and mashed potatoes with Lorna’s special brown gravy, steamed broccoli and cauliflower. Emma had suggested the less fattening vegetables after she calculated the fat content of Lorna’s meals. Lorna hadn’t agreed to substitute them for the vegetables cooked in butter or smothered in cheese until after her husband of forty years underwent bypass surgery.